


A Warm Interlude in the Ice of the Night

by Melimelo



Series: Jonsa Twelve Days of Shipping Challenge [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, Jonsa Twelve Days of Shipping, Keeping each other warm, Season 7 fix-it, mention of Jon/Daenerys, mention of Ramsay/Sansa, so mention of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melimelo/pseuds/Melimelo
Summary: Winter was here, the army of the dead was coming. And Sansa was cold, so cold.Her pride would be bruised if she was not able to support the cold better than some… some Southern will-be-queen. She was Sansa of House Stark, the lady of Winterfell.





	A Warm Interlude in the Ice of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Edit : There is a prequel available [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204122)
> 
> Hi everyone ! (I feel so silly writing this, I’m gonna have to start thinking about a better way to start my notes…)  
> Today’s trope is : Keeping each other Warm with some bed sharing because why not.  
> I think I got a little bit carried away… But I’m happy with that story so I made no more modifications. 
> 
> Usual disclaimer : nothing is mine, except the word’s order. And the choice of the words.  
> Warning again for cousin incest – but if you can’t pass through that, you have not chosen the best ship…  
> Or maybe it’s the ship which chose you – who knows?
> 
> English is still not my first language. If you see mistakes, please don’t hesitate to tell me !  
> Enjoy !

Winter is here.

Sansa was a daughter of the North, used to be outside in freezing weather. She had never lived through a winter, but she always thought she would not be as much affected by one as she currently was. Her pride would be bruised if she was not able to support the cold better than some… some Southern will-be-queen. She was Sansa of House Stark, the lady of Winterfell ! Though it wasn’t the case anymore, thanks to her beloved cousin who, since he bent the knee to that foreigner, has been named Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.

Don't get her wrong. She understood the reasons Jon had to bend the knee : Daenerys was powerful, had an impressive army, two full-grown dragons and a will to listen and help them. Without her, they would have no chance to win against the army of the dead. Without her, they would all end up dead - or worse. Sansa shuddered at the thought, not helping at all her predicament.

At least, she was still sleeping in the Lord's chambers - thanks to an astute plot of Jon when he learned that his lover had named him Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. He reacted quite vehemently at that, but nothing he said could convince Daenerys to let aside her mistrust in Sansa. That was what ended convincing her that Jon was on their side, _her_ side. He didn't betray her, he only was doing his best to protect them. Arya had trouble understanding that, for to her, her brother to lie and use plotting and scheming to achieve a goal, was unthinkable. The words betrayal, foolish man and Targaryen bitch were uttered in more than one fit of anger and all tentative of explanation from Jon has been cut short. Arya resented all the scheming and would rather kill anyone who did not have the best intentions for the pack at heart. Yes, her fierce little sister's path during those years had been tough in its own way...

But it wasn’t any useful to dwell on this any longer time. What should be the prime priority on hers was the way to get warmer quickly. She was underneath many furs and the fire was burning - still she could not seem to get warm. Her large bed appeared now more as a ploy rather than a treat. And the night will only get colder and colder... / It was just the beginning of the night. 

Sansa acted on that thought, put on her warmest cloak and opened her heavy door. Brienne sprang onto her feet, worry plain on her kind face.

"What's happening, my lady ?" Brienne enquired, a hand already on the handle of her sword.

"Nothing, I would be glad if you could escort me to Jon's chambers."

Sansa stated the real reason because Brienne could be trusted, even if she did not know the whole story - nobody but Jon and her knew the whole story. She was Sansa's most trusted confident, the one she allowed herself to wholly trust despite Littlefinger's warnings and the presence of her own blood. 

She walked quickly, with only the moonlight as a guide, not wanting to be seen going who-knew-where in the dark. Brienne was a protection, but even she could not do a thing to prevent rumors and snide comments to be uttered. With Daenerys here, who looked at her warily, such things were better avoided. Never give the stick to be beaten with to your enemies.

She knocked on Jon’s door, without waiting for an answer before coming in. Contrary to hers, Jon’s room was small : a fireplace beneath the window, a chair with his drying clothes, a desk and a simple bed. He was seated at his desk, alarmed to see her at this hour of the night. 

Sansa briefly thanked the gods he was present, and not warming the bed of his lover. She was glad he followed her advice on that point : the Targaryen queen was naïve in her own way, and the closer you let someone be to your heart, the easier that person will be able to manipulate you if needed. Jon has been reluctant at first, but had seemed enamored enough to go along with the plan. Or maybe he saw the advantage of such a move – at last.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but I can’t seem to find rest. It’s cold and my rooms are too large to be warmed properly. Father and Mother had never complained but they really should have” Sansa explained, signing to him to continue his own business. Already Ghost has recognized her and was lying on her feet, wanting to be petted.

“Army of the dead’s bringing the Long Night. Sam thinks they’re the main cause of the cold. If-when we beat them, winter shouldn’t be that cold anymore.” He said, rising to sit beside her on his bed. “I don’t mind you being here. It’s nice to have you around, you know that Sansa. And don’t call me that, I’m not the Lord of Winterfell. You know that with just one word from you I’ll go to Daenerys and…”

“Don’t say that, it’s okay. I know you didn’t plan to take the lordship from me. We just had to. I understand. I was the one who agreed when you said you would do whatever it takes to ensure our lives. I did the same thing.”

Ghost reclaimed her attention and a comfortable silence fell upon them. Sansa let her mind digress, something she forced herself not to do except when she was alone. But with Jon, it was different. They shared an history. They may have been at odds during their childhood, but it was not for lack of common points. On the contrary, the more time she spent with him, talked to him, observed him – when he did not know she was doing it, when he behaved naturally – the more she realized they were more alike than she ever would have thought. They had the same way to view the world, the same regrets of wanting to leave their childhood home, the same fierce rage to defend what was them. They had their differences and their fights, of course, but they weren’t unsurmountable.

One achieved so much when one wasn’t alone. _The lone wolf dies but the pack survives_ – her father’s words had become her mantra. Jon and her, they were a team – and a good one on top of that. His flaws were balanced by her strengths and her failures were compensated by his success. They were complementary – that’s the word she’d been looking for. It was wonderful, it was safe.

She realized she was watching him quite intensely during her digression and turned her gaze away, a smile tugging the corner of her lips. She was starting to feel tired, so said so.

“You can sleep here, if you prefer. It wouldn’t be prudent to go back outside with that cold.” Jon offered, getting up to stir the fire.

“Thanks” she said, starting to get ready for bed. She smiled warmly when he turned his back on her disrobing. It was a thoughtful attention – one she would have taken for granted before everything – but not now, not anymore. His bed wasn’t as comfortable as her own, for he had trouble sleeping in a too PLUSH mattress, but it was his, so she knew she’ll have no trouble finding sleep. However, it was still cold – even more now that she was not wearing anything more than her nightgown. “Aren’t you going to come in?” she asked, gesturing to the covers.

“I got tons of things to do. Besides, it’s soon to be aurora and time for training. Brienne and I, we rather train when less people are present to watch us.”

“Alright, but it doesn’t mean you can’t sleep. For a few hours at last. You look… you’re starting to look like a ghost Jon. I know that there are things to be done, but I can help with them. You won’t win any battle, you won’t train any soldier when you can barely walk. Come sleep next to me, what’s making you so reserved to do so?”

“You know what, Sansa.” His voice was suddenly hard, his back tensing when he turned to the wall again.

“I really don’t.” she assured him.

“It’s not proper. You and me, sharing a bed. We’re not husband and wife. I thought that’s obvious enough. You don’t want people talking about that.”

“We shared a bed before” she remarked, in a small voice.

And they did. At Castle black, after the Battle of the Bastards, when her nightmares wake her in the middle of the night screaming, panting. When Jon’s gentle words and respectful presence was the only thing her troubled mind tolerated near her. The night before he met Ramsay for the first time, some nights at Castle black when his terrors woke her up, nights when they would lose track of time in her rooms talking about administration and politics. She never thought twice about those nights : they sought comfort in each other arms, they did what felt natural. It was all innocent, why would he think something else? What was different this night, compared to all the others?

“We were brother and sister before.”

Ah.

The rest went unsaid : we’re not anymore. It was a lie. My whole life was based on a lie. We’re cousins. Even if you don’t want it to, it changes everything.

Sansa bit her lip and sat down, reaching for him. He did not see her do so, he was still facing the wall. She wanted so much to comfort him, but she did not know how. She did not even know if he wanted to be comforted. Still, she couldn’t – physically couldn’t – let him alone with his demons.

“I…”

“Nothing Sansa. Sleep, I’ll watch over you. Good night.” He interrupted her, his voice so final that she did not know what to do except obey.

**

Sansa was shaking, it was so cold. Less so than in her rooms but if she stayed there she wouldn’t feel so cold inside too. Jon’s words and attitude had shaken her. Her own impuissance frustrated her but, instead of increasing the fire of her anger, it only left her sad. She could not sleep, but Jon was working, and she thought he would not appreciate being disturbed again.

The sound of his writing stopped at last and, to her astonishment, she felt the bed dip. He was getting under the covers, unsuccessfully trying to be silent. She waited a bit more and, when she heard him sigh for the sixth times in a row, she decided to let him know she was awake.

“Didn’t want to wake you. I shouldn’t even do this, but I can see you shaking from the other side of the room. You came here because of the warmth, not to hear yourself scolded. I’m sorry.” He whispered. She could distinguish his form with the help of the fire, but he was facing away from her. He seems to do a lot of that lately…

“I wasn’t sleeping. Couldn’t after I knew there is something bothering you. Tell me, Jon. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“I thought I was the warden of the North…” he said, but there was a lightness to his tone that wasn’t present until now. The tension between them was fading. “I’ve been thinking about my… parents. Especially my mother, Aunt Lyanna. I mean – my mother Lyanna.” He turned to face her. “When I was young, one of my worst fear about my mother is that she could have been raped. The fact that I thought Eddard Stark was my father soothed me from that but, hearing other men talk about whores or aftermath of battles. I didn’t want her to have lived through that. I thought she might have hated me, so she gave me to my father immediately.” He paused a few seconds, seeming to wonder if he should go on. Sansa nodded, urging him on. “When I understood what Ramsay did to you…”

Sansa tensed, the uttering of his name still something that made her react. Usually it happened when she could hide it, but it was not the case when she was sharing a bed with Jon. He’s dead, she told herself, you saw him die. You heard his cries, you heard his dogs eating him. He’s not going to touch you again.  
She shuddered, coming closer to Jon. He could touch her for his touch was so very different from Ramsay’s. They spent the next minutes breathing in synchronization with the other, calming themselves.

“I’m okay, go on.” She assured him. “And don’t apologize” she added, when it looked like he was going to.

“Whatever… Now that I know the truth about my father…” His eyes closed in distinct anguish and she felt his hands form into fists. “I can’t help but compare what he did to my mother with what He did to you. It sickens me, Sansa.”

So, that was the problem… She still didn’t understand what was so horrible “You said Lyanna married your father…”

“You married your tormentor. You were forced to.”

“Bran said he didn’t abduct her. They eloped. They wanted to get married, yet couldn’t. it has nothing to do with what Ramsay did to me.” She urged. She was starting to see what was on his mind.

“How can you know that? How can you know she didn’t hate him, hate me?”

“I know it because I know what it is to be forced. Listen to me Jon, I would rather have jumped from the highest tower of Winterfell than bearing any child of Ramsay into this world. I would have killed any child of him way before it would have been born. I would have sooner killed myself than subject a child to him, than having his child. And I’m not as brave as aunt Lyanna was. She was a warrior, she was fierce.”

Sansa heard his intake of breath, then felt herself being fiercely embraced. She sighed of ease, burrowing herself further in his arms and returned his embrace. At last, she felt his body warm her through their thin cloths.

“She loved you, Jon. Just as Arya loves you.” At his small snort, she quickly added “Of course Arya loves you. She just needs to think about it with a calm mind. She’ll reason herself and she’ll come around.”

“What about you?” he croaked. She would have loved to see his face at that moment, but it was burrowed in her hair.

“I love you too, Jon. You’re the only being in the entire world I fully understand and who understand me in return and the only one I have faith in.”

He chuckled lightly, but when she started to wonder if he was gently mocking her, she felt his arms tighten around her even more. As if the last part, the one about her own feeling, was the most impactful one, the most important.

“What about you?” she whispered against his cheek. She felt drowsy, but she did not want the conversation to end. If she could stop the time and spend eternity just as she was right now, she would have been happy. Forever having that warm feeling in her chest and belly, forever feeling safe and surrounded with someone she loved and who she knew loved her in return.

“What about me?”

“Do you love me?”

She felt him give a long sigh. He moved the hand that was stroking her hair to her cheek and shifted so that he could look at her in her eyes. His were soft, a small smile tugged at his lips, his brows a little bit furrowed.

“Sansa…” Her name was an exhalation and she felt her whole body light up. She gasped as the greatest wave she ever felt washed over her – a multitude of feelings and reactions. It was not the first time she ever felt those in his presence, but it was the first time she was conscient of its presence.

“I do, sweet girl. So much, so strongly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this little ficlet !  
> I’ll probably post some prequel and/or sequel to this one, either during the challenge or after. I’m a little too proud of this one to let it go like that. (Is it too pretentious to admit that? Ah never mind – it’s the truth).  
> Feel free to let me know what you think of it – or if you just want to say hi, be my guest !  
> Tomorrow, I’ll post the third part of this challenge : either a Fairy Tale AU or a Fake Relationship Trope. Bets are on !
> 
> Enjoy your day / holiday / end of the year / whatever you want !


End file.
